


Clockworked

by Beethelesda



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute Kids, Family, Family Drama, M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beethelesda/pseuds/Beethelesda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Call me when you can't take it anymore at night.<br/>Call me when you're tired of crying. Call me when kids drive you crazy. Call me when the shopping bags are too heavy. Call me when your life is too heavy. Call me when you've cooked too much pasta for dinner. Call me when your children aren't home and you don't feel like working. Call me when you hear a strange noise in the house and need some reassurance. Call me when you wake up and let me start the day with your voice.<br/>Call me.<br/>Please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clockworked

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to translate this (as always, from Italian to English) for a few months and well, thank you, Mr. Lack-Of-Sleep, for your cooperation.
> 
> Don't judge me, I only wanted to write a love story. ♥

**10:14**  
Across the street, a team of workmen is starting to break down a building.  
It's an old building. Old, but beautiful. Beautiful, with its red bricks and windows hemmed in white marble. And a staircase, an elegant stone staircase. Next to the entrance, a string of brass plates with names and surnames of important people.  
Now the building lacks of a considerable bite on one side, while the machines continue to nibble its bricks with a creaking sound.  
Some onlookers stop to look at the rubble. The workmen, all wearing their silver and orange reflective vests and yellow helmets, move here and there quickly.

 **11:05**  
A rookie drills the water pipe with a jackhammer.  
 _Cloudy, with a chance of epithets._  
The right-hand man of the foreman takes off his gloves, swipes his forehead, removes the yellow helmet and trots outside the restricted zone, headed to the house on the other side of the street.  
It's a small house, squeezed among the others, on two floors, with a thin, rusty netting placed before the little concrete garden. Four steps and then a white door, with the old varnish peeling off the wood.

He rings the bell.  
«Mh... hello? Excuse me? I'm a workman... of the  _Otinbuild..._  we are operating in front of your house. One of my workers hit a pipe by mistake. Could I please check your water pump to make sure that there are no pressure issues?»  
Silence.  
The door creaks open - It must be pushed a little halfway, because the warped wood chafes on the ledge.  
He raises both his head and hand, waving hello by the other side of the net.  
  
Short, weightless steps on the stairs, two soft boots with fur inside and lean legs. He makes no noise.  
He opens the thin gate and keeps his eyes down, brushing away the hair from his forehead.  
Black curls, wild, unkempt, against a skin without color. A beautiful mouth, a sharp nose.  
«Come in, please».  
The voice of a nervous person, someone who smokes occasionally to unravel his nerves.

«Mom! Moooooom, the water is not coming out!»  
A beautiful little girl chirps in front of the door, with a green dress and a giant apple-colored bow tied at her waist. Black hair, long and plaited in two braids. Their likeness is amazing, but...  _Mom_?  
«Leah, go back inside, it's cold... this man here came to fix the water».  
«I'll just check the state of the pipes by now. The repairs won't require more than half an hour. Hopefully for us, no big damage has been done».  
The girl stares at him from head to toe. She's frenzied and knee-high to a grasshopper. She barely reaches his hip.  
He is tall, blond, broad shoulders, burly, stomping on his big work boots.  
«Mom, them shoes...»  
A long sigh.  
«Please, could you... please... take your boots off? There's carpeting inside... and if they see the adults wearing shoes indoors, then they might insist on keeping them too and it's all about cleaning and...»  
He smiles, affable.  
«No problem, I myself also had to cope with my brothers, when they were toddlers».  
He takes off his boots and leaves them on the threshold. The girl stares at him again.  
«And who are you, sir?»  
«Leah, don't...»  
He kneels and smiles, holding out his hand.  
«I am Tennor. And you're... a princess?»  
«Yes!»

The child rushes along the corridor, disappearing beyond a door.  
The house is narrow, the stairs to the upper level rise on the left. The hallway carpet is bottle green. On the right, a small living room, with a table covered with removed watch gears, a lens, a lamp, work tools for precision reparations. On the left, a few steps away from the stairs and right in front of the living room, an even smaller kitchen. Between the two doors, on the wall, a stopped clock, marking half past six since who knows when.  
The little girl is standing on a stool in front of the sink, unscrewing and screwing the faucet.  
«See? It's not woooorkiiiing...!»  
«Leah, my love, let this gentlemen do his work. Go upstairs, look after Lucas...»  
She pouts angrily, jumping off the stool with both feet together and trotting up the stairs.  
«I beg you pardon. There was no school today and she just got hyperactive».  
«She's adorable. And... she does really look like you».  
«Oh, no... she's my wife's portrait».  
But when he says so, his mint-colored eyes don't smile, not indeed. He stares at the floor, at the pale tiles.  
«My condolences».  
«Is it that evident?»  
«Dark circles under your eyes. A little».  
But still, Tennor looks at him and thinks he has never seen anyone so beautiful. He would love to rub the back of his hand on his cheeks.  
He runs a hand over his forehead, his fingers long and thin.  
«Three years of sleep deprivation, that is».  
In that house, silence reigns, only revived by the dull humming of the blue neon light of the kitchen.

Routine.  
Tennor opens a few valves and looks at the counter.  
He uses the walkie-talkie to communicate with one of his colleagues on the other side of the road. They are striving already.  
«May I stay for a moment to check if everything is ok? Would you mind?»  
«Sure. Can I get you a drink?»  
«I don't think I could ask for a glass of water, right?» Tennor tries to smile.  
The glass he gets is cheesy, with marks from the dishwasher. The bottle right out of the fridge is half empty.  
Tennor looks at him as he unravels between cabinets and flaps.  
He wears a shapeless plaid shirt, long down to his knees. But his hands, his adam's apple and his chin...  
«May I ask you... why does she call you _mom_?»  
«Since when Sylvia died, she stopped calling me dad. There's just no way to change her mind».

 **11:50**  
«You've been very kind».  
If you can define  _kindness_  the fact that he has endured for almost three-quarters of an hour from slamming him against the wall and kissing him, then yes, he has been _very kind_.  
Tennor looks at him in silence and thinks he is really,  _really_  beautiful.  
«It has been a pleasure», he mutters as he stretches out his hand.  
His hands are icy, thin and bony.  
«Pleasure was mine, Mr. Tennor».  
«Ten. Just... Ten».  
«...Larkin».

Kiss me. Kiss me fondly, kiss me now.  
Give me your mouth, cling to me, let me lift you up.  
You will have dark circles for other reasons, from now on.  
I will too affectionately call you  _mom_.  
Kiss me. Kiss me fondly, kiss me now.

«Good day and good work».  
«Same to you».

 **13:22**  
He sees them on the other side of the striped plastic tape.  
For a moment, just a brief moment, he's living in another world.  
A world in which he takes off his yellow helmet, wipes his forehead, walks on. He lifts the striped tape, the little girl runs towards him. He picks her up, puts her on one shoulder, fragrant and weightless. He keeps walking. Larkin is waiting for him with another child in his arms. They meet, he encloses his hips with his free arm, bends his head, kisses him with his eyes closed.  
«Hi Mom», he murmurs. Larkin smiles.  
«Hello Daddy», he says.  
But that world is not their world.  
Not for now.

The little girl is pointing and jumping. She wears a baby-pink knitted wool jacket, closed by two apple-shaped buttons. Larkin has a washed out cardigan. He holds his youngest child, who's clinging to his shoulder. His short black hair looks uncombed and his round little face looks bored, his eyes lost in the distance.  
«Mr.Tennor, Mr.Tennor!» she shouts, jumping.  
«You left without saying goodbye. She had no intention to eat until...»  
Ten laughs, taking off his helmet and making a small bow.  
«I beg your pardon, princess».  
«Do you knock the buildings down?»  
«Yes. I break them down and then I rebuild them».  
Ten turns and greets Larkin with a glance. He would love to greet him better. Then he smiles to the little boy.  
«And you are... Lucas?»  
Larkin shakes his head.  
«Not a word from him for three years. Selective mutism».  
Ten would love to kiss him and tell him that everything is fine. That baby boy is small and light, but he seems to weigh on him like lead. His little sister rocks back and forth, holding his father's hand, trying to lean over to watch the construction site.

«Can I see your gear?»  
«No Leah, it's dangerous».  
«Listen to your papa. As soon as it will be safer, I'll take you for a tour of the site, princess».  
She smiles and looks at Larkin, as if to say " _Do you get it? He'll take me there._ "

She greets him by quickly waving her hand.  
«See you tomorrow, Mr.Tennor!»  
«Goodbye, princess».  
He looks at the three of them crossing the road.  
Larkin then turns around for a moment, before disappearing behind the door.

The foreman approaches him.  
«What the heck are you doing, temporising at work?»  
«I am... madly in love».  
«Shush! Go fuck yourself, go».

 **20:46**  
«Tomorrow we are visiting Mr.Tennor again!»  
«No, my love, you'll be at school tomorrow».  
The child freezes still, standing on the bed, in her white and green pajamas, with her loose hair neatly combed.  
«We'll be going when I get back».  
«Leah, he is a stranger...»  
«He's not a stranger, he is Mr.Tennor!»

He puts both his kids to bed, side by side, under the quilt with green leaves embroidered on. Puppets are everywhere: crocodiles, snakes, frogs, funny vegetables.  
«Good night, Mommy», a soft voice says sleepily.

 **22:00**  
Larkin looks at the photograph of Sylvia on the nightstand.  
He sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his furry boots. He takes off his shirt too and throws it on the chair.  
He thinks that it has been three years since he hasn't been undressing for a different reason aside from tucking himself to bed or having a shower. But he is ashamed of such thought and cries with his head buried in his hands.

 **22:18**  
On the television hanging in a corner of the room, the Blazers team is getting their asses kicked pretty badly. The pinch hitter just can't keep the bat in his hands, that night. A couple of commentators, perched on two stools at the bar, sternly clap their hands, cursing.  
«Hey, Ten, fancy another round?»  
Sandra smiles, winking at the empty bottle of Sly Fox Beer.  
«No, I'm good. Work to do, tomorrow».  
She stops, with the tray balanced on her left hand.  
«Too bad... I am free, after my shift».  
He leaves the tip on the table and smiles.  
«I am... engaged, Sand».  
She widens her eyes and watches him leave.

Ten stares at his wrist watch.  
He fastens the motorcycle helmet under his chin with a click.  
He thinks of sheets, thinks about lying on his side and caressing Larkin's shoulder.  
«Good night Mom», he murmurs to himself.

 **16:47**  
He saw the three of them going out that morning, riding a bicycle in a hurry.  
He sees them back now. The kids are seated on the front and on the rear of the bike, and they wear matching mint green helmets. Two large bags are hanging from the handlebars.  
Keeping the bike balanced, with two children on board and the bags dangling, must be quite an effort. Larkin opens the gate, pulls down both kids, collects the bags. He doesn't seem to have enough strength for all that.  
Leah jumps, swiftly running out of the gate.  
Larkin catches her, he yells at her - and it shows. Then he crouches on his knees, pressing his hands on his face. Leah rests a hand on his head, and soon after follows him inside, taking Lucas' hand.

 **19:18**  
The shift is about to end and Ten procrastinates.  
After their return home, they haven't come to pay a visit.  
He really hoped that Leah would have been a little more insistent.  
But no, the lights in the windows switch on and off and the door remains closed.

 **00:32**  
Ten throws his shirt in the basket for the dirty laundry.  
He had no tissues at hand, so he had to do otherwise.

 **11:07**  
Someone is at Larkin's door.  
From the construction site, Ten can clearly see him enter. A man of about fifty, with a large soot-colored gabardine coat.

 **11:27**  
The man comes out with a voluminous package in his arms. Behind, Larkin is waving goodbye by the threshold.  
The customer leaves, with his repaired clock pressed safely against his chest. Larkin gets a glimpse of the construction site. Then raises a hand in greeting.  
Ten greets back.

 **14:46**  
A stroke of genius.

 **14:50**  
«Hi it's... I'm... Tennor! The guy from... from the construction site. I have a... I seem to have a problem with my watch».  
The house is quiet . A tiny television is switched on Oprah, but without volume. The living room is dark, apart from the working lamp, bent on the complicated mechanism of a wristwatch.  
Larkin has his hair pulled back by a headband and beautiful eyes, oh so beautiful eyes. His dark green sweater leaves his white clavicles uncovered.   
They both stare at each other, a lot and in silence.  
«I must have hit it against something while working... or anything like that».  
They both know that it is just an excuse, even if the clock isn't really ticking.  
Larkin takes it off Ten's wrist, unbuckling the wristband, gently touching him with the tip of his fingers  
It's like they're sharing their most intimate bedroom secret.

«Are the kids at school?»  
«School and kindergarten, yes».

To throw him on every surface of the house, to undress him, to make him scream . To make him laugh, to itch him with his stubble, rubbing against his white chest. To mount him on the kitchen table and to call him  _mom_ , to pull his hair, to bite his ass. To spread him, to worship him. To lower the frame with the photo of his wife. To cling so hard as not to breathe.  
He'd love to.

Ten scribbles in pencil on a piece of paper.  
«Call me when you've repaired it...»

Call me when you can't take it anymore at night. Call me when you're tired of crying. Call me when kids drive you crazy. Call me when the shopping bags are too heavy. Call me when your life is too heavy. Call me when you've cooked too much pasta for dinner. Call me when your children aren't home and you don't feel like working. Call me when you hear a strange noise in the house and need some reassurance. Call me when you wake up and let me start the day with your voice.   
Call me.  
Please.

 **22:20**  
There were times in which Ten barely gave any importance to his cellphone and he would leave it everywhere. Or break it by stepping on it, throw it away in the dirty laundry basked, throw it in the toilet and almost flush.  
But now, now finally it's precious, extremely precious, extremely important. He must always have an eye on it, should he hear it ring.  
Should it ever ring.  
Ring  
Come on, come on. Come on!  
OH COME ON!  
RING!

 **13:00**  
Larkin is standing near the edge of the construction site, behind the striped tape. He's holding a thermos of coffee and two colored plastic cups stacked above. Ten's watch is on his wrist.  
«Is the watch fine?»  
«The battery was dead».  
They both laugh. A mediocre excuse, a shoddy excuse.  
«Coffee Break..?»

They sit on the roadside. The coffee is hot and black.  
«I didn't know if you wanted any sugar».  
 _If you kiss me, even bitumen would taste sweet._  
Larkin holds his hands around his cup, absorbing the heat of the beverage through the colored plastic.  
«Leah is obsessed with you. It has never happened before».  
Ten glances at him.   
 _And what about you? Are you obsessed with me?_  
«I promised her some dinosaurs-shaped nuggets, later. She said that you should eat them, too. With us».  
«Is this an invitation... for dinner?»  
Larkin remains silent, staring at his coffee.  
The coffee stares at the grey sky above.  
Ten stares at Larkin.

He swiftly lowers his head, followed by a swirl of unkempt black curls.  
«I haven't been living for three years! I have forgotten how to live. I have forgotten how to live!»  
Ten sheds the bottom of his coffee, steals the cup from Larkin's hands, throws away his coffee.   
Then lifts him up, gripping his arm.  
«Let's go inside. I'll teach you how to live again. Right now».

 **14:38**  
It 's like watering a plant after so long, but not too long.

 **14:50**  
Ten looks at him, pleased.  
The afternoon light filters through the suddenly sunny window beside the bed.  
Larkin is lying with open arms, his eyes closed, panting.  
Beautiful, just as he had imagined, just as promised.  
A body that needs to make love.  
He places his hands on his chest, feeling his knees clutching again at his hips.  
«Again...?»  
Larkin laughs softly.  
Ten kisses his neck, nibbling at his throat, muttering at his chest.  
«Oh, a thousand times, if we could».

The photograph of Larkin's wife is facing down on the nightstand.  
«Again...»  
He turns Larkin prone, following the sinuous line of his spine with his parted lips. He hasn't been cutting his hair for a while, so he tucks it back behind his ears, tickling his white skin with his beard.

Tennor arches back, with one hand pressed against Larkin's chest and the other jerking between his legs. Larkin, palms pressed against the headboard, tilts his head back and moans. Every stroke, every thrust breaks his voice, so fast that he almost forgets how to breathe. And he's as soft and welcoming as a woman. Just as a woman. There is only the dull sound of their bodies slamming against each other and the creaking of the bed.

 **15:36**  
«At half past four I'll have to get my children back from school...»  
«We still have time...»  
Larkin looks at him, lying on his side, his sweet face half buried in the pillow, black hair spread everywhere.  
«...that much?»  
«So much... I can barely tell how much».  
Ten lies back, hands clasped behind his head. Broad chest, legs spread, smelling of effort, sweat and pleasure. Larkin stretches towards him, resting his cheek on his chest, looking upward, fiddling with his beard, rubbing it with the tip of his fingers.

 

 **12:30**  
The clock on the wall, between the two doors, is ticking perfectly on time.

  
  
 **20:46**  
The embroidered blanket is well tucked on the small bed.  
Many, many kisses on two small foreheads.  
«Goodnight daddy», chirp two sleepy voices.

 **21:08**  
He takes off his shirt, slowly, kissing his bare back.  
They both slip between the sheets.  
Ten lies on his side, caressing his shoulder.  
«Goodnight mom», he croons. 

  
Beyond the window, across the street, a complete a new building.

 


End file.
